


they've forgiven my mistakes (i'm coming home)

by jayisokayy



Category: Doctor Who, Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, PWP without the porn, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-08
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1921518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jayisokayy/pseuds/jayisokayy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My husband is the kind of man who’ll stay up all night simply talking to me, even if he has something to do the very next day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	they've forgiven my mistakes (i'm coming home)

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 10th anniversary to everyone's favorite roleplay couple

“And before you leave, a prompt to cover this weekend. Write a five hundred word essay on the meaning of love. Have a wonderful weekend and I will see you Monday.”

Rory quickly scribbled the assignment onto a piece of paper before walking out of his English class with a warm smile to his teacher. Ms. Johnson was a very nice woman, and found all of Rory’s works to be insightful and well thought out. He pulled on his sweater and walked out to the front of the school, plopping himself down on the steps outside to text his husband. Rory unlocked his phone and texted Dean, _‘Come to the university to get me? I’m awful tired,’_ before playing with the piece of paper in his hands. Usually prompts from his college professors were done easily and efficiently, which, he supposed, was one of the reasons why he was so adored by professors. He smiled as his phone buzzed with a, _‘You’re a weakling, Williams. See ya in ten.’_ Rory grabbed a pair of headphones from his bag and plugged it into his phone, pressing play on one of his favorite Pandora stations. He let himself fall into his own mind, listening to the pop music from the eighties he so adored, and so he didn’t hear when Dean’s car pulled in front of the school. In fact, he was completely oblivious to Dean’s presence until he was picked up by his husband and spun. Rory screeched and then, upon realizing it was his husband and not some kind of serial murderer, laughed. “Dean!” He whined as his husband put him down.

“What?” Dean asked with a smirk, leaning down to kiss Rory softly. The pair remained like that for a minute, until one of Rory’s friends from English cat whistled. They broke apart, Dean with a sly smirk down at his husband as Rory blushed at being caught by someone that he knew.

“Go home, Allyssa.” He called to his classmate, who, in turn, raised her hands in defense and continued walking down the street. Rory turned back to his husband and slung his bag over his shoulder, with the prompt still in hand. “Sorry about her.”

“No big deal.” Dean said, taking Rory’s free hand and leading him to his car. He looked down at the piece of paper that Rory was holding and made a small gesture to it, “What you got there, Williams? Love note from a cute boy?” He teased, opening the door for his husband like a true gentleman. Rory rolled his eyes and curtsied in response before stepping into Dean’s car. He waited until Dean got in the other side and successfully started the motor before he responded.

“I have to write an essay over the weekend. Five hundred words.” Dean groaned at that, and Rory couldn’t help but laugh. He knew how much Dean hated whenever he had to work on something, because it meant less time together, and the pair already had a very limited amount of time together, with Dean’s hunting and all. “Not tonight though,” He added, which earned a small smirk from Dean as he shot a look over to his husband.

“Of course not. Tonight’s movie night.”

* * *

 

Movie nights for the couple involved sending the kids to Sam’s and watching crappy children’s movies. Usually whatever was playing on Disney worked but sometimes, when they genuinely wanted to watch a crappy children’s movie, they would resort to Netflix.

Tonight was not one of those nights.

The pair sat, legs tangled with the others, hair messy and shirts ruffled, lazily kissing on the couch. Rory took advantage of these nights, it was one of the only times when they could actually just appreciate the other’s existence without being interrupted by screaming children or Peter Parker and a broom. (Honestly, moving was one of the best decisions that Rory’s ever had. The people upstairs were almost never home, and their neighbors were far enough away that they couldn’t hear them, ever at their loudest.) Rory, as always, was the first to pull away, face flushed bright red and hair a tangled mess, just to breath out, “God, I love you so much.”

Dean responded with more kisses. Which was perfectly okay with Rory.

* * *

Then of course, there were the little things. Waking up to kisses down his neck, _(occasional bruises following,)_ being surprised in the shower, brought breakfast in bed, those lazy days where they could stay inside curled up next to one another and watch soaps and not talk for hours, just enjoy being in each other’s company. Those were the things that made Dean different from boyfriends Rory had in the past. Dean was patient and kind and funny and accepting and just all around wonderful. Rory had never felt more in love in his entire life, and so that’s what he wrote about.

* * *

 

The Meaning of True Love

By Rory A. Williams

My husband is the kind of man who’ll stay up all night simply talking to me, even if he has something to do the very next day. He’s the sort to kiss my forehead when I pretend to be asleep because he told me not to wait up for him. He’s the kind to laugh at my ridiculous jokes, tell me I’m beautiful even when I feel gross. My husband would be content, (or so I’ve been told) to spend a solid month holding me close and telling me how much he loves me. It seems that, with Dean, intimacy doesn’t have to mean the same thing as sex. Just kissing for long periods of time or sleeping on top of each other or letting him stroke my arm suddenly becomes intimate. He loves me for who I am on the inside, not something superficial. My husband is the best man I’ve ever come to know, and I’m sure that even if one day he realizes that I’m not good enough for him and kicks me to the metaphorical curb, I’ll still love him because that’s what true love means to me. It never dies, it never ages, and it has no conditions.


End file.
